Proven Wrong
by Loony-Lily
Summary: This was written for a challenge on Fiction Alley but I can’t seem to post it there.


Title: Proven Wrong  
Rating: PG (I hope)  
Time Period: Summer between Harry's second and third year.  
Author Notes: This was written for a challenge on Fiction Alley but I can't seem to post it there.  
Summery: What was the story behind the choir in PoA? Here is Severus Snape's brief POV about his summer from hell.  
  
**August 1st 1993**  
  
I have always considered myself to be professional as a teacher. A stern expression and a few well placed threats have seen me through twelve years of teaching and I have no immediate plans to change my methods. Throughout my twelve years of being on the Hogwarts' staff and my seven years as an actual student, I had thought that all teachers would act like professionals, whether during the term or the summer break. That day I was proven wrong.  
  
It was an in service day before the start of the new term (I did not fail to notice that our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was missing. Was this to be my lucky year?) ; Albus had called a meeting in the Staff Room. I was expecting this to be some sort of briefing on what will be happening now that that murderer, Black, has escaped. I was wrong. I have always held the Headmaster in the highest regards, despite his love of, in my opinion, the foulest sweets on the planet (excluding Cockroach Clusters) and his occasional nonsensical behaviour and when he suggested that this year, we should have some sort of entertainment at the start of term, I thought that he meant a tasteful display by the resident ghosts, a dance of sorts, perhaps a violin solo or two (I should be so lucky).   
  
I was stunned into silence when Albus told us what would be happening. Unfortunately, my colleagues seemed to think differently.  
  
That sounds wonderful, Albus. Oh, I will have to get my camera out for the occasion, Pomona Sprout gushed, delightedly, Poppy Pomfrey nodding along side her, like one of those dogs Muggles seem so fond of displaying in their cars.  
  
Rolanda Hooch was talking animatedly to Minerva and Hagrid looked as though he was going to wet himself with the excitement.  
  
In fact, the only people who did not find the idea of a choir of students (and toads) at all appealing were myself, Sibyll Trelawney, who was muttering about singing clouding her inner eye and Binns, who hasn't cracked a smile since the early fifties. I decided to speak up.  
  
Honestly, Albus, a choir? And who, may I ask, will be subjected to organising and conducting this little venture of yours?  
  
I was sure I heard Minevra mutter something about spoiling the moment, but decided to ignore her... this time.  
  
Filius has kindly agreed to conduct the chosen students, Severus, the smallest member of the staff stood up on his chair, proudly holding his baton, and I suspect he will to a wonderful job.  
  
I was in the Vienna Boys' Choir for several years, Filius squeaked.  
  
I groaned; there are some things one does not need to know about ones co-workers.  
  
**August 2nd- Dumbledore's Office**  
  
Albus, you cannot be serious! I refuse, point-blank. I will not do it.  
  
Albus looks at me, over his half-moon glasses. Damn that twinkle, damn it to hell. My chest, puffed out defiantly, begins to deflate under that penetrating stare.  
  
I almost whine, I am begging you, Albus. Please, don't make me supervise that choir.  
  
Albus just smiles.  
  
**Arithmancy Corridor**  
  
I walk back to my office, and the pile of paper work that is waiting for me, slowly. I have a choir rehearsal tomorrow evening at five. I have decided that Albus gets what he wants far too often. He has decided that I need to shake off the image I have created for myself and prove to the students that I am actually a fully functioning member of society. How, exactly, am I meant to do that, when I am not a fully functioning member of society?   
  
To add insult to injury, I have been told that the Defence job went to Remus Bloody Lupin. Merlin, how I hate that man. When I questioned Albus, he just said that Lupin was in need of the job more than I was. Stupid werewolf and his inability to hold down a job.   
  
**August 15th- Charms' Corridor**  
  
I think that went rather well, don't you, Severus? Just a little more work should do it and then it will be perfect. The grating squeak of Filius' voice causes me to wince. I have endured an hour and a half or auditory torture, can he not leave me alone? The choir, needs more than a little work.  
  
I grunt, allowing him to interpret it any way he wants.  
  
It brought back memories of my own choir days, he sighs, wistfully, Oh the fun we had; outings to the beach at the weekend, horse riding, naked limbo...  
  
My eyes widen. Why on earth did Albus insist I take this job. Oh, no... now I can't get the image of Filius and naked limbo out of my head.  
  
**  
September 1st 1993- The Great Hall**  
  
One month after that fateful day, I am sitting at my place at the staff table, awaiting the start of the . Lupin shoots me a tentative smile. I glare back. Stupid bastard, taking my job from me...   
  
Filius gets up from his seat. I try to avoid eye contact. I have endured practices with the choir all of August and needless to say, Albus' plan for me getting to know the students did not work; seeing as the students in the choir are looking at me in varying degrees of fear or hatred.   
  
I brace myself as the students make their way to the front of the hall and Filius stands, ready to lead them.   
  
I have always considered myself and my colleagues to be professionals. Spending the summer with Filius Flitwick and his stories, has proved me wrong, on so many levels.


End file.
